


Patterns of Innocence

by yoopersundevil



Series: Patterns [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, F/M, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-04 21:07:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15155654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoopersundevil/pseuds/yoopersundevil





	1. The signal of the opening echoes again

> A travelling Prophet and Templar pair are uncommon, but not unheard of amongst the Prophets of Usono. Many of their expenses are covered by the Association of Prophets and Templars, but they are not as wealthy as Prophets with temples.
> 
> \- _Prophets of Usono_ , published 1653

“We’ll be having sunny skies for the next few days, perfect weather for the Festival of Flames,” the newscaster says, her voice coming out of the radio.

I reach down to turn the knob. The voice coming from the speakers get softer and softer until it is nearly impossible to hear. Altemp chuckles from the passenger seat, but otherwise she does not say anything. 

I return my attention to the road. The stretch of road that we are travelling along is poorly maintained and only two lanes rather than the four or six of the highways to the south. The shoulders are narrow, trees crowding the edge of the thin strip of gravel. There are no other cars on the road; I do not remember the last time I had seen another car.

The forest is thick here as well. We’ve left behind the cluster of large farms with their cows and chickens and entered an area with small, family-owned farms with only a few heads of livestock. Most of the few clearings in the forest are dominated by crops, and I spot a few small trails leading into the forest, their locations marked by rusted red signs. I cannot see anything that might exist at the end of those paths. The trees seem to devour the paths.

The trees around us are old. Thick trunks with gnarled bark and twisted branches that reach high into the air. The canopy scatters the late morning sun into dozens of narrow shafts, illuminating the piles of dead leaves and plants on the ground. I spot a few trees, standing broken and dead, amongst the tall trunks of their neighbors, but I can’t get any real details before the forest is broken again by a field. 

“Look, Runegar,” Altemp says. She points out the front windshield. 

I follow her finger and spot the thing she is looking at. An old, wooden sign stands at the edge of the forest at the far end of the field. The sign is worn, and the paint is faded or gone entirely from the surface of the sign. I struggle to read the words painted on the sign. Wel om t Pes ti! The sign reads. The only solid thing is the painted flames at the right side of the sign. The reds and oranges are faded. 

“It’s not much to look at,” I say. We pass the sign, but we’re still not in the town. The forest continues for another half mile before we reach any of the residential buildings. Altemp looks around, her silver eyes wide, and a small smile grows across her face. I focus on the road, trying to listen for the directions coming from my phone.

We drive through the center of town. I spot a small grocery store and a local bank, but most of the buildings along the road are homes. Many of the houses are old, with worn paint and torn roof shingles, but I can tell that these houses have history. Each house has its own unique details from columns along the porches to the ornaments around the windows. Almost every house has a large tree, though the trees are thinly leaved, looking sickly compared to their counterparts outside of town. There are only a couple of other cars on the road, but more are parked along the side of the road, stopped in front of the houses. Despite the sunny weather, I cannot see people enjoying it. 

“It’s very homey,” Altemp says. “It would be nice to settle down here.”

I glance off the road to look at her. She is staring out the window, her attention focused on the houses that we are passing, but she gives off a faint scent of… desire. I let my eyes drop back to the road. I remember that she’s been wanting to find a place to settle down, but I don’t see any advantage to settling here in the town of Peshti.

We turn off the main road just before reaching the bridge crossing the Peshti River. Following the road away from the main road, we pass a pair of school buildings on the left. 

The sign for the hotel appears to the right, and I pull into the parking lot. There is only one other car in the lot, so I park close to the lobby’s door. Altemp is already out the door before I can turn the car off. I climb out after her. I reach back into the car’s back seat to pull out my small travel bag.

The heat is stifling. The sun overhead makes it brutal, and the air is strangely dry. I can feel the sweat already beginning to grow on my forehead and at the base of my back. I reach up to swipe at it. The sweat leaves the back of my hand wet; I wipe it against my pants. The brilliant sunlight burns my eyes, and I can feel a headache forming just behind them. 

I leave Altemp in the parking lot and head into the hotel lobby. There is only a single chair in the lobby, and the room is dominated by the desk. A young man sits behind the counter, his attention focused on his phone. Only the bell ringing above the door draws his attention as I step into the room. His eyes take a moment to focus on me before they widen in shock. “A… A guest?” A flare of shock, a dark scent, comes off him.

I walk over to the desk. I can hear the AC unit working, but the air inside is just barely cooler than the air outside. “I need a room for the weekend.”

He hesitates for a moment. I tap on the top of the computer monitor on the desk, and the clerk jumps to work on it. “ID cards please. Oh, the weekend? What brought you to Peshti? The festival?” I pass him Altemp’s and my ID cards. He begins entering the information into the computer. “How will you be paying today?”

“In a sense,” I say. I reach into the bag and pull out a small envelope. It is overstuffed with papers, and it takes a moment of rifling through the papers to find the one I need. I pull it out and pass it to the clerk. 

He opens the paper. I watch as he reads the lines, and I feel a small twinge as his eyes widen even further. “I see. Well, I’ll put you in the special suite, room 25. Two kings. A view on the river.”

He passes me back my items before giving me the keys. I thank him for his help and head back into the heat. I glance back at him. He has his back to me, talking to someone on his phone.

Altemp is missing, though the car is still standing open. I can’t see her from the entrance to the hotel, and she’s not near the road. 

I find her near the back of the hotel. She stands at the edge of the river, under the meager shade of a tree. Her pale hair seems to glow in the scattered sunlight, and a faint breeze picks up the edges of her pale colored gown. The sleeves of the gown and her pale skin gives her the appearance of an angel. 

I turn my attention past her to the river. The trees here seem to be a little healthier than the ones further away from the river, but piles of dead leaves still rest at their bases. The river flows lazily east, but the water looks fairly shallow, though I could be mistaken. The river has shrunk away from its normal level. Grasses, now brown and dead, had grown across the exposed riverbed. 

Altemp turns towards me. “Do we have a room?” 

I nod. We begin to walk back to the car to grab our meager luggage. I spot the door to our room at the end of the hallway as we cut through the building to get to the parking lot. “Yeah. They gave us the special suite. Sounds like it should be nice. Has two king-sized beds from what he said.”

We get the luggage and head back into the hotel. I lead her to the door. The keys are simple keys, more akin to a house key, and not the card keys that most hotels use nowadays. They don’t allow a lot of security, but I can’t stay on that thought for too long. 

I push the thought from my mind and turn my attention to the room. It is decent enough, with newly painted walls and remodeled furniture, and looks like it has three separate rooms. The main door opens into a living room and kitchenette combination. The kitchenette has a couple of outdated details. A door directly to the left leads to the bathroom, and a door to the right of that leads to the large bedroom. A stale smell fills the air, the remnants of past guests; this room must not have been used in a very long time.

I follow Altemp into the bedroom. The two beds dominate most of the space, leaving only enough space to move around the beds. I wonder who thought that two king-sized beds was a good idea for a room of this size. One wall has a large closet; it should be big enough for most of our clothes.

Altemp is already spreading out her clothes on the bed furthest from the door. Most of them are tied to her duties as a Prophet, but she does have a couple of casual outfits. She hangs all but one of the casual outfits into the closet. 

I open my bag on the other bed. I don’t carry many clothes, and almost all of them are Templar uniforms. I pull them out of the bag and straighten them on the covers. The motions calm me down, though the headache is still growing at the back of my eyes. I reach up to rub at the bridge between my eyes. 

“Are you alright?” Altemp asks, leaning close.

I nod. “Just tired from the trip.”

She frowns, and one hand reaches up to touch my cheek. Her fingers are hot against my skin. “You don’t feel hot. At least you’re not sick.” She gives a faint smile. “That’s good.”

I step away from her. “Of course.” She lets her hand fall to her side. 

My phone gives off a sharp singing. The alarm takes me by surprise, and I flinch away from it. I stare at the phone for a moment before I collect myself enough to move over to it. I spot a notification under the large clock numbers, but I don’t have to read it to remember the reason for the alarm.

“We’ve got to get going,” I say. “It’s almost time for that meeting.”

Altemp’s eyes widen. “Oh. I didn’t realize it was so late already.”

She turns away, grabbing the last of her things and putting them away. I watch as she worked, but it doesn’t take long for her to finish. I use the meager time to check the location of the meeting on the map. I’m surprised that it was close, just on the far side of the bridge over the Peshti River. The restaurant sits near a building marked as the Peshti Clocktower. _Shouldn’t be too hard to find it then…_

Altemp appears at my side. “Ready?” I ask.

She nods, and we leave the hotel. I sigh at the heat, but we walk quickly back to the main road and over the bridge. I spot a dam to the right of the bridge, and far to the left of the bridge, I can see an island near the center of the river far to the west. Tents rise above the surface of the island, and I can see people moving between the tents. 

I see a clocktower rising over the far side of the bridge. It has a pale red color from the bricks forming its exterior, and the clock-face dominates the top of the tower. However, I can tell that the clock itself is not working, with the time displayed being completely wrong. The hands are not moving at all.

We turn onto a road marked as Riverside Street. The clocktower marks the entrance to the downtown area, and from this perspective, I see the deep scorch marks marring the bottom of the tower. Many of the buildings crowd the sidewalks, a row of brick buildings hosting both businesses and residences. The sidewalks are dotted with short, metal lampposts with two white, orb-like bulbs. A few trees stand along the road, and a couple of cars are parked at some of the buildings.

We approach a building with a turret climbing out of the corner, and a sign marks the building as The Landing, the restaurant that we are supposed to meet our host. The building has wooden sidings, painted a pale blue color with white accents, and large windows allow glimpses inside.

A trio of young men step out of the building. Two of the men seem to be following the first man. He has deep brown hair that hangs to his shoulders, and he wears a loose vest and a set of black slacks. A fedora tops his head, and black gloves cover his hands. He has a sour look on his face though. His eyes widen as he sees Altemp and me, and a sneer grows across his face as they get closer. I can smell him giving off an alpha stink as he gets closer. The other two are not remarkable beyond their statuses as beta males.

Altemp falls back, and I move to stand between them. The sneer twists, but the man continues approaching them. “Be careful,” Altemp whispers, her silver eyes focused on the strange man. 

I nod just as the man reaches. The man ignores me, his attention focused on Altemp. She shrinks under his attention, and I put one arm between them to shield her. “Hey. I’m just trying to talk to you,” he says. 

“Leave us alone,” I say. “We’re just trying to get in.”

His sneer turns into a snarl. “Who are you to talk to me like that?”

I straighten my back and stare him down. The young man looks like he’s a couple of years younger than me, but he’s older than Altemp, who is only 17 years old. I feel a wave of disgust rising in my throat. “Not much to look at, are you?” He makes a sound and a flare of alpha pheromones, but I push forward. “Step aside.”

His mouth opens to argue, but our conflict is interrupted by the arrival of a newcomer. “What are you doing, Chani?” another young man asks. “Why are you disturbing the guests of the Beites family?”

The alpha’s two beta followers take one look at the newcomer before they balk and flee the scene. The alpha named Chani frowns at the fleeing followers and the newcomer. “What do you want, Seppawle?”

The newcomer grins, but something about it seems rather feral. He has matte black hair and brilliant blue eyes that watch Chani carefully. He wears a suit under a light, long coat that hangs to his calves. “Now, now, Chani. Don’t be rude.” He motions towards us. “These are the guests of the Beites family, and I’ve been waiting for them to arrive.” He gives a faint grin. “Unless you want to fight against a Prophet and her Templar? Then by all means.”

Chani glances back at Altemp and me before he snarls at Seppawle. He shoves a finger at the other man. “Don’t think that this is over, Beites.” He stalks off, heading away from us. 

Seppawle watches him until he turns the corner before he turns his attention towards us. “Well, that was unfortunate,” he says. “Come on. Let’s get out of this heat.” 

We follow him into the restaurant. The air inside the restaurant is significantly, but comfortably cooler than the air outside. We pass an old podium as we move deeper into the restaurant. A couple of the tables are occupied by other guests, but they only glance at us without lingering on us. They seem to be afraid of the man leading us towards the back of the restaurant.

I spot a young woman sitting at a table at the very back of the restaurant. She has long black hair that are tied into a pair of pigtails, and her eyes are a shocking shade of light blue. She has a slim figure that is clothed with an outfit similar to a school uniform. A deep red long coat hangs over the back of her chair.

My attention is drawn to a large quilt hanging over the table. It is longer than it is wide, and the length is adorned with a variety of images. Most of these images are those of buildings that must be around the town; I recognize the Peshti Clocktower (built in 1562) in the lower left corner. Each of the buildings have their construction dates near their names, and almost all of them are built after the year of 1583. Lettering above an image of a burning building announces “The Great Fire. 1583.” The quilt is old, the fabric threadbare and worn, and I spot a faded X over a building marked as the Dires Building (built in 1621).

The woman chuckles. “Are you curious?” she asks, leaning forward to rest her chin on her entwined hands.

“It’s pretty brave to call it the Great Fire.” 

Altemp and Seppawle sit down at the table. My eyes stay on the quilt for a few more seconds before I take my own seat. Altemp and Seppawle begin to chat, going over the details of the reason for our arrival in Peshti, but I can’t focus on their words. 

The woman watches me. “Yes. Well, it may not be well-known, but the name is well-earned. Nearly 2000 square miles burned. Almost 2300 people just… gone, and that’s the low end of the estimates. Peshti itself was nearly wiped out entirely by the firestorm.” She glances back at the quilt. “Well, the Festival of Flames is our way of remembering those hellish days.”

“Feni, do you have anything to add?” Seppawle asks.

The woman smiles. “It sounds like you have everything under control, Sepp. I’m just a background actor. You do so much better with the actual acting part.”

Seppawle sighs. “Alright.”

I lean forward. “Why would you ask for assistance from an outside Prophet? I thought that Peshti had its own Prophet.”

Feni snarls, the sound shocking me. “That man is no proper Prophet. He lies whenever it pleases him. He… He’ll simply ruin the Festival.”

Altemp glances at me, but I motion for her to stay silent. “I still need to talk to him. If something has happened to him, then I’ll need to confirm that for the records.”

“The temple is outside of town,” Seppawle says as Feni gets to her feet. He watches her leave. “I can give you the address.”


	2. Gazing at the faded promise, I surrender myself to it and fall

> Temples serve as a residence for many Prophets and their Templars. Pilgrims come to the temple to gain the truth seen by the Prophet, and the Templar serves as a companion and protector of the Prophet. Even the smallest of temples host at least 1000 pilgrims each year.
> 
> \- _Prophets in Usono_ , published 1653

I drive along the narrow country road. Most of the landscape is dominated by the forest. The trees grow right up to the edge of the pavement, towering over me, and their canopies reach out over the road. Most of the trees here are evergreens, great pines with long branches. Pine needles lie scattered across the road surface. 

I follow the road deeper into the forest, keeping my eye out for the sign that Sepp mentioned. Even then, I nearly miss it, since a large bush has grown in front of the sign. I slam on the brakes and feel the car slide slightly over the dry pavement. I manage to slow down enough to turn onto the gravel side road. 

The car hits a pothole hard, and it throws me into the air. I feel the car come down hard on the gravel and the tires skidding across the loose rocks. I wrestle the wheel to regain control, and after a bit of fishtailing, I manage to get the car straightened out.

The side road is only one lane wide and is threatened by the encroaching forest. The thin band of sky disappears behind the trees’ canopies, casting the road into near darkness despite it being the middle of the day. I reach down to turn the headlights on. The beams of light seem rather feeble in the crush of the forest. 

I spot another path branching off the side road. It is barely marked, beginning to become overgrown from neglect. I slow down and carefully turn onto the path. While the entrance to the path has been neglected, the path itself is decent enough. The potholes are not as steep as those on the gravel path, but I still drive slowly and carefully down its length. 

I catch a glimpse of the temple through the thinning trees as I come around a bend in the path. The path opens to a large clearing in the middle of the forest. The two buildings that comprise a temple take only half of the space of the clearing, and a meager garden occupies the rest of the space. I follow the path to a small parking lot. I bring the car to a stop and climb out. 

I spot a large tree near the entrance to the temple’s worship area. There is the traditional board for placing wishes from pilgrims, but the few remaining scraps of cloths still hanging from the board are worn and discolored. 

The silence of the temple terrifies me. The other temples that Altemp and I have been to were crowded with pilgrims and people attending to the Prophet, but this temple… There are only two other cars in the parking lot. The temple has no visitors here, and it doesn’t look like anyone’s visited in the recent past. 

The garden is clogged by dead leaves. Piles of the leaves gather at the bottoms of a long fence near the residential building, and more lie scattered across the garden. I spot a narrow path cutting through the leaves to the back of the residential portion of the temple. 

I follow the path to the back yard. This area is more well-taken care, the dead grass cleared of leaves. The back door is open, but the rooms beyond are hidden in darkness. A large porch rises above the garden, and I can see that it extends around the corner to the far side of the building. A small sign at the very edge of the garden marks the beginning of a path through the forest.

“Jaskibar! Villgar!” I shout at the door.

I hear someone walking across the floor of the room inside. I strain my eyes, trying to see who it is that is coming towards me. I feel my headache getting worse from the strain.

My first glimpse is pale skin, followed by pitch black hair and pale silver eyes. I feel my back straighten at the sight of Jaskibar, the Prophet of Peshti.

He comes to a stop just outside of the back door. He has the presence of an alpha in the center of his own domain, and I feel myself unnerved a little by his steady stare. He looks more filled out than the Jaskibar in my memories, and I spot lean muscle moving under his shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest. “What do you think you’re doing, Runegar Tomes?”

I force the frown off my face. “I’ve come to meet with my brother and to find out why you have abandoned your duties as a Prophet.”

He tilts his head. “Villgar’s asleep right now, and I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

I take a step towards him. He stands his ground as I reach the bottom of the stairs leading up to the porch. “The townspeople have called in Altemp to do the ceremonies for the Festival of Flames.”

Jaskibar reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Is it that time again?” He sighs. “Well, come in then. I don’t want to hash this out here.” He motions for me to follow him, but he does not wait before turning around and walking inside.

I climb the stairs onto the porch and follow him into the building. The air is warm and dry, a fan pushing the air around the room. We walk through the living room and past the small kitchen to a hallway that extends towards the front of the building. Six doors lead off the hallway, and I spot a couple more past the door that Jaskibar opens. 

The room beyond is a small office. A simple desk with a laptop sits near the center of the room, and a pair of chairs face each other over the desk. A bookshelf takes up most of the wall to the left. I spot a door to the right, but with the door closed, I can’t tell what lies on the other side. 

Jaskibar walks around the desk to sit at the far chair. “Sit down and be quiet. Villgar’s sleeping. I’ll eject you if you wake him up,” he says, motioning to the chair in front of him. 

I walk to the chair and sit down. “The Beites said that you had abandoned your duties as the Prophet of Peshti. Since you hadn’t supervised the rituals in a few years, they decided to call Altemp in.”

Jaskibar sighs, leaning back into his chair. His silver eyes close as he thinks for a moment. “The townspeople don’t want me there. The reason I haven’t supervised the rituals is because they chase me away whenever I try.” His eyes open, and he glances at the door to the unknown room. “It’s bad luck for a man to be a Prophet.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he holds a hand up. “Look, that’s what the people say, so I’m not going to argue with them. Besides, it lets us be left alone, and that’s about the only thing about this damned town that I can be happy about.” 

I hear the door open. It draws my attention in that direction. I see a man step out of the room into the office. He has light brown hair and shockingly green eyes. His most distinguishing feature is a deep scar across his left eye. The scar seals his eye shut, but his other eye seems sharp, unharmed by the injury that ruined its partner. He wears a pair of black slacks and a black dress shirt.

His eye widens as he spots me. “Oh. I didn’t realize that we had guests.” He eyes me suspiciously.

Jaskibar waves a hand dismissively. “She’s not really a guest,” he says. 

The stranger gives him a look, but Jaskibar ignores him. I get to my feet and walk over to him. He pushes the door shut as I get close. I hold out my hand. “My name’s Runegar Tomes. Spelt using the characters for ‘day’ and ‘star’. Templar to the Prophet Altemp.” This close, I get a faint whiff of vanilla, but the man lacks any of the scent markers of an alpha male. 

The stranger grins and reaches to shake my hand. His grip is firm, and I can feel faint calluses on his palm. “The name’s Ptiervand Reveals. The spelling uses ‘green’ and ‘bird’ I’m a local doctor.” 

I return to my chair in front of the desk, and Ptier moves to stand to my right. Jaskibar signs. “Well, Villgar’s in no condition to participate in the Festival of Flames,” he says. “If anything, he won’t be able to see you today.”

Ptier opens his mouth to say something, but he is interrupted by a phone going off on the desk. Jaskibar leans forward to answer it, turning his chair away from us. 

Ptier lets out a breath. He looks down at me. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

I nod, and we walk out of the room. He leads me back through the living room. I notice that the living room has a pile of pillows and a couple of blankets in the corner. The pile looks rather comfortable, and I feel a strange sense of exhaustion, pulling me towards the pile. 

I force myself away from the pile and out the back door. I follow Ptier out into the heat. “Don’t get angry at Jask. He’s just worried about Vill, and he’s getting cranky because of it.”

“What’s wrong with him anyway?”

The man glances over his shoulder at me. “It’s just a mild case of heat stroke. A lot of people in Peshti are getting it. Vill just needs to relax inside and drink a lot of water, but I doubt he’ll suffer from any lasting effects. He’ll be feeling better by the end of the day.”

I feel something in my chest weaken and fade away at the words. I reach up to rub at the top of my breast bone. “That’s good.”

We walk across the garden to the sign. I see that it says ‘Lake Maze’, and my heart sinks, but Ptier strides into the forest with the calm of practice. “It looks worse than it actually is,” he says. “Just follow me.”

I feel myself nodding, and I follow him into the maze. The trees close in around us. The light dims, and the only sound is the faint crunch of leaves under our feet. I smell the stink of dry rot and leaves floating up from the forest floor. 

We take a couple of turns before the path opens to another clearing. This clearing is dominated by a drying lake, and a path follows the former shore of the lake. The level of the lake has receded nearly a dozen feet, exposing the coin-studded lakebed. The seaweed, now above the water level, has died, and I spot the skeletal remains of the fish that once inhabited the lake. I catch a whiff of the stench of rotting fish coming from the remaining waters of the lake.

A statue of a woman stands on a pedestal at the end of the path. She has long blond hair and wears a beautiful black, gold, and crimson dress. I reach up to touch the hem of the statue’s dress. The stone is smooth, worn from decades of weather and pilgrims rubbing their fingertips across it, and it is strangely cool despite the heat. I see an inscription at the base of the statue. “Lady Cliaphora,” I read aloud.

“The Witch of Peshti. They believe that she is the one to give the Prophets of Peshti their power,” Ptier says. “She once saved the residents of Peshti during the Great Fire before choosing one of them as the host of her power.”

“Sounds like she’s important in the town then.”

He shrugs. “Maybe once, but now the people avoid her shrine as much as they do Jask.” He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. “Her black letters are consider omens of ill tidings. And with the recent events…”

He trails off, the words almost whispered, but I catch them. “What do you mean recent events? What’s happened?”

He waves his hand, holding his cigarette between his teeth. “It’s nothing, really. Just the same kinds of things that always happen when a lot of people get together. It’s nothing to really worry about.”

I get close to him. “What happened?”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He takes one last drag of his half-smoked cigarette. He lifts one shoe off the ground and grinds the end of the cigarette into the sole of his shoe. He flicks the remnants into the shallow water. It hits the water’s surface with a slither of smoke before disappearing under the water. “It’s mostly just scrapes and a couple of fights between the drunks. Nothing of real interest.”

I feel myself relax at his words. “Alright, then.”

His phone begins to ring. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an old battered flip-phone. “Hello. How are you feeling?” He listens to the speaker on the other side for a few moments before nodding. “Alright. We’ll head back.” He turns towards me. “Let’s get back to the temple. It sounds like Jask’s calmed down.”

We begin to walk back to the temple. I glance back at the statue of Lady Cliaphora once more before we reenter the maze. I notice a couple of markers near the junctions; I realize that the markers indicate the proper path to the lake and statue. I feel settled, relaxed by the presence of the landmarks. 

We reach the exit to the maze. I hear someone shouting, arguing with another person who is unseen. The sounds come from the open back door. 

Ptier rushes forward, and I move to follow him. My eyes struggle to adjust as we burst through the open door. I spot a familiar head of deep brown hair and vest, and I come to a stop just inside the door.  
“Jask, you need to help us drag down those damn Beites,” Chani shouts at the Prophet.

Jaskibar stands at the end of the hallway. A dark, furious look adorns his face, and his silver eyes look almost black in the dim light. “Quiet the hell down,” he growls. “Don’t you dare wake Vill up.”

Chani snorts. “I’m not worried about that little freak. Let him come fight me. I’ll be happy to beat him down.” He crosses his arms. “You have to help with those damn Beites.”

Jaskibar frowns, and I notice that his eyes flick towards Ptier and me. He gives a long-suffering sigh. “I cannot help you, Chani. Go home. Learn to deal with things on your own.”

Chani’s hands clinch into fists. “You’re one of us. You’re a Reines.” His voice gets louder and louder. He’s practically shouting now, and the space of the living room allows for a slight echo. I feel my headache starting to grow again.

“I’m not a Reines anymore, Chani,” Jaskibar says, his voice beginning to get deeper. I feel a wave of magic coming off him, and the stink of alpha male fills the air. “I am the Prophet of Peshti, and I cannot get involved with problems between the families.”

Chani takes a step forward, giving off his own alpha scent. _A direct challenge against Jaskibar,_ I realize with a shiver of terror. I had heard stories of when two alpha males get into a fight, one responding to another’s challenge, but I’ve never seen it in real life. I glance at Ptier and can tell that he is not eager for the confrontation.

A noise coming from down the hallway draws everyone’s attention. Ptier rushes past Jaskibar and Chani while Jaskibar drags his brother out of the building. Chani finally notices my presence, and he opens his mouth to say something, but he is gone before he can utter a single word.

“You need to get back to bed,” Ptier says, his voice barely audible and holding a caring tone. It draws my attention back to the hallway.

Ptier emerges from the darkness, followed shortly by a smaller man. My attention is drawn to the head of pale blond hair and blue-violet eyes. Villgar is just as small as I remember, his form slender and vaguely feminine. His pale cheeks are flushed slightly, and his eyes struggle to focus on anything. His body is draped with clothes that are far too large; the clothes must belong to Jaskibar because they are so big. “What’s going on?” he asks, sounding just as exhausted as he looks. 

“Villgar…” I say, taking a couple of steps towards him. Ptier motions for me to stay back, and I come to a stop. I reach towards Villgar. 

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Ptier says to Villgar. He turns towards me. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” He puts one arm over Villgar’s slender shoulders and leads him back down the hallway. I hear a door close softly in the darkness.

I sit down on the couch in the living room. It is soft and plushy under my weight, and I feel myself sinking into the cushions as my weight settles. I let out a sigh and allow my eyes to fall closed. My headache flares for a moment before fading once again.

I hear Jaskibar stomping back into the building. He growls a curse out. “You need to leave,” he says.

I get to my feet. “I want to wait for Villgar.”

“Out. I’ll tell him to call you when he’s feeling better, but he needs to sleep.”

I try to argue with him, but I feel a force tighten around my throat. He is exerting his control over his temple. I swallow my anger, and giving a quick bow, I turn and walk out into the back garden. I glance back at Jaskibar, but he is already turning away from me. 

I walk back around to the front. I fish the car keys from my pocket. I look back at the temple, but its cold silence chases me away.

The drive back to Peshti seems to take too long, and the sun is setting by the time I reach the hotel. Altemp gets to her feet as I come into the room. “I… I ordered some food from a nearby restaurant,” she says, rubbing her hands together in front of her. “It should be here soon.”

I nod, only half-listening. I sit down at the edge of my bed for a moment before allowing myself to fall backwards. Altemp sits down next to my head. She leans over to look down at me. “Are you alright? How was the trip to the temple?”

I shrug. “It was fine,” I say. “Villgar was sick, and Jaskibar was… hostile to outsiders. He didn’t have any pilgrims, and I don’t think that he’s had visitors in a very long time.”

She takes my hand in hers, and I feel her begin to rub the back of it. “Hm… Perhaps it would be good to settle here then. Another Prophet would draw new pilgrims to this town.”

I look up at her, thinking about telling her about the statue by the lake. “Maybe. Let’s see what happens with this festival.”

We eat dinner once it arrives, and I find myself beginning to fall asleep too early in the evening. Altemp chuckles as I get ready for bed. “Go to sleep,” she says. “I’ll be fine.”

I fall asleep shortly afterwards.


	3. Black Letter

> While Usonian surnames follow relatively consistent rules, given names do not follow such rules. Pronunciation and character usage varies amongst names, and parents choose names with unusual characters or pronunciations, and as such, those names cannot be spelled or pronounced without both spelling and pronunciation given. The trend of unusual pronunciation has increased significantly in the past decade.
> 
> \- The People of Usono, published 1699

I don’t really sleep. The ebbs and flows of my headache don’t allow that. I think that I dream a couple of times, but they are fragmentary and non-sensical. I wake several times in the night, but I barely regain consciousness before I’m pulled back into that dusky rest. 

I finally pull free of that half-sleep around six in the morning. The hotel room is still dark, and I stub my toe trying to get into the bathroom. I give a faint curse, groping for the switch along the wall in the darkness. I take a quick shower and prepare for the day. I stretch in the living room. 

Exhaustion still eats at my awareness, and even the stretches don’t do much to clear that exhaustion away. I decide a walk around the hotel might allow me to wake up entirely. I grab one of the room keys and leave a note for Altemp, before I head out into the early morning air.

The air is still cool, the sun just barely rising over the trees. The sky is a mix of deep purples and blues, but the clear sky does not allow for any hope of rain or relief from the oppressive sun. I walk to the small path going along the river. I turn towards the island at the far end of the river. I can’t get too close before I run into a fence extending across the path and into the river. A sign announces the edge of a strip of private property. I walk along the length of the fence for a while, but the fence eventually runs into the road and turns to run along the road. 

I walk along the road, heading back towards the hotel. A faint breeze grows, throwing a smattering of leaves over the road in front of me. I spot a couple of cars turning onto the road from the main street, and a couple of drivers stare at me as they drive past me. I ignore them.

I reach the hotel. I spot the clerk standing just outside the door, smoking a cigarette. He glances up at me as I approach. “Ah, you’ve got mail,” he says, jerking one thumb over his shoulder. “It’s on the counter in there.”

I frown and walk into the lobby. I hear the computer whirring as it sits idle behind the counter, but I ignore it as I approach the counter. I can’t see anything from my position, but more of the counter comes into view as I get closer. 

I spot a letter on the edge of the counter. The pitch-black envelope makes me shiver, but I force the feeling away. I reach to pick the letter up. The paper is smooth and chilled, and I flip it over to look at the back of the envelope. I see a gold foil butterfly across the back of the envelope. I rub my fingers over the butterfly emblem, but I’m surprised to realize that the butterfly is actually part of the envelope and not painted on top of the paper. 

The only thing that has been painted onto the paper is the beautiful calligraphy at the edge of the butterfly’s wing. The golden ink spells out my name in graceful characters, and I’m surprised to see that the characters used are the correct ones. I allow my eyes to narrow. How did they know how to spell my name?

I put the letter into my coat pocket and head back outside. The clerk glances up at me from his phone, but he doesn’t say anything to me. He simply allows me to walk past him. 

I take the letter back to the hotel room. I slip through the door and immediately go into the bathroom. I flick the light on and move to the sink. 

I break the seal on the envelope and pull out the letter inside. It takes a little bit to read the letter, some of the words old-fashioned and using archaic, obscure characters. I struggle over those characters, but I get the main gist of the letter’s contents.

> This is the Witch’s Game, announced in the name of Lady Cliaphora. All villagers are participating. No one is allowed to quit the game. The Witch’s orders are absolute. Find the King and bring him to justice by the end of the Festival of Flames. Failure will result in death of everyone in the game and the Witch will be declared the victor.

I feel the cold of the paper seeping into my fingertips. The cold suddenly gets worse, and I drop the letter in shock. It leaves a trail of fog as it falls to the floor. The paper cracks and falls apart once it reaches the tiles, and I watch as the pieces become more and more fragmented until it seems to disappear entirely.

I hear Altemp starting to move in the bedroom. I wipe my foot over the place where the letter had fallen, feeling the cold still emanating from the tiles. It sends a shiver up my leg, but I manage to crush it before it can spread beyond my knee. 

A knock at the door startles me. “Runegar? Are you in there?” Altemp asks, sounding half-asleep still. 

“Yes. I’m sorry. I’ll be right out.”

“No, it’s alright. I was just worried about you.”

I clean up, using the mirror to make myself presentable. I smooth down my hair, and I splash a bit of water across my face. The cool water shocks me, and I feel my mind clear, the headache finally fading away. I look over myself before turning away from the mirror and leaving the bathroom.

Altemp sits on the couch in the living room. Her head turns towards me as I leave the bathroom, and her silver eyes watch me carefully. I can tell that her ability as a Prophet is inspecting me, but I push down the feelings, projecting a calm aura for her. She smiles at me, getting to her feet. “Today’s the start of the Festival of Flames,” she says. “We won’t be needed until Sunday, so we can just enjoy the festival for a couple of days. I was thinking of going to the festival and looking at the stalls.”

“Sounds good.” I walk into the kitchenette. “So, when will we head over there?”

“The festival starts with a parade that begins at four in the afternoon. We can go watch it and then head to the festival grounds on the island.”

I nod, really listening with only half an ear. “Very well.”

Altemp appears at my side. Her hand reaches towards my face. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she asks. I feel her cool fingertips press against my cheek. I let her touch me, not bothering to move away from her. “You seem… distant.”

“Just… tired. I’m not used to this heat.”

She chuckles, pulling her hand away. “It is a little stressful. I don’t think I slept very well either last night.”

I shrug. “I’ll be fine. Just need to wake up a bit more. Get some breakfast.”

Her eyes widen. “You haven’t eaten? Let’s go see if we can find something then.”

We head out into the town’s downtown area. I spot the clocktower standing guard at the intersection. “We have quite a few hours before the festival begins,” Altemp says as we pass the tower. She stares at the windows dominating the storefronts lining the street. “Is there something you want to do?”

We pass the restaurant from yesterday. It is still early, and while the restaurant itself is closed, I spot a couple of waitresses preparing the restaurant for the day. They sit with their backs to us as they roll silverware, chatting with each other happily. I glimpse the quilt from yesterday, but I’m too far to see any real details. 

“Ah, Runegar. Look,” Altemp says. 

She points to something up ahead, and I follow the line of her finger to its destination. I spot a building standing apart from the other, more tightly clustered buildings. It is a rather ornate building, even compared to the ones nearby. It looks like it’s been built out of white marble, though the years since its construction has tainted the color. Four columns flank its front doors, and a pair of lamps stand at the base of the stairs leading to the door. 

“Looks pretty old, doesn’t it?” she asks, stopping at the base of the stairs. 

I notice a plaque near the door, a rusted copper plate slowly turning a sickly green. I climb the stairs to get closer to it. It reads “Flickers Public Library, 1593” in blocky characters. The characters look almost engraved into the metal, and an emblem of a pair of crossed keys is pressed into the metal above the characters. I suppose that the crossed keys are the emblem of the Flickers family or the company that built the building or made the plaque. 

Altemp climbs the stairs. Her attention is focused on the door leading into the library. “Looks like there’s a door on the side. We can’t get into this one.”

I shrug. I lean close to the glass doors, peering into the building. The glass doors have a layer of tint on them, making it difficult to see inside, and all I can glimpse is some sort of statue near the doors. I can tell that most of the lights are off with only dim lights on near the statue. “It doesn’t look like it’s open anyway.”  
Altemp sighs and turns away from the door. “Well, let’s go on, then. Maybe come back later.”

We climb down the stairs and continue down the street. The sun is higher in the sky now that we are approaching mid-morning. We pass a couple of elderly people on the sidewalk. The elderly couple glance at us, but one look at Altemp’s silver eyes cause them to quickly bow and shuffle away. Altemp turns to look at them, but she says nothing.

We find a small café nestled between an office and an empty shop. The smell of coffee unsettles my stomach, but I spot rather delicious-looking sandwiches in a small display near the register. My stomach growls audibly at the sight. I hear Altemp laugh at me, and I feel a flush grow across my cheek. “Let’s go in and feed that beast,” she says, poking at my side.

We enter the café. A single person stands behind the counter, tending to a brewing pot of coffee. She wears a brilliant red dress, and a scarlet scarf covers her hair, draping over her shoulders and head. Her hands are adorned with a sleeve bound to her middle finger and leaving her other fingers open. Those fingers have beautiful swirls drawn in pale ink on her dark skin.

A bell rings from above the door, drawing the waitress’s attention. She strides to the register. “Ah, customers!” she says with a foreign accent. “What can I get for you?”

Altemp orders a small drink and a pair of the sandwiches. I pass her the card. My phone rings, and I step outside to answer it. I don’t recognize the number, but I press the ‘accept’ button anyways. “Hello?”

“Runegar, is that you?”

My blood runs cold at the voice. “Ah, Villgar. It’s good to hear from you. How did you get this number?”

Villgar remains silent for a moment. “I called the Academy. They gave me your number. You’re a Templar now, right?”

I try to shake free of the chill, but it clings to my bones. “Yeah. We’ll be in Peshti for the weekend to oversee the ceremonies of the Festival of Flames.”

“Oh,” he says softly. “I heard that you came to the temple yesterday. I’m sorry I couldn’t see you while you were here.” He takes a breath. “I… I don’t remember what happened yesterday.”

“It’s alright. You were rather sick.”

He sighs, the sound long and distorted through the phone. “Well, I’m feeling a lot better today. Will you be going to the festival tonight? I don’t think that there’s anything that they would need a Prophet for tonight?”

I glance back at Altemp. She is sitting at one of the tables, her attention focused on her phone. I look away before she can notice me. “Altemp wants to go.”

“I didn’t think that you care for festivals.”

“I go where Altemp goes.”

He makes a noise, but I can’t tell what kind it is. “I’ll have to try to get into town then. We can meet at the festival grounds. How about we meet near the bridge to the island around six? We can catch up on what’s happened in the past six years, get some dinner. Sound good?”

The waitress walks to the table, carrying the two sandwiches and Altemp’s drink. “Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

“Alright.” 

We end the call, and I walk back into the café. Altemp looks up, a smile growing across her face. “Everything alright?” she asks. She places her phone on the table.

I nod, pulling one of the sandwiches towards me. “Yeah. It was just Villgar calling to set up a meeting between us.”

“Villgar? Your brother?” I nod again. “We’re meeting at the festival, then?” I nod. She takes a sip of her drink, thinking. “Hm… What’s he like?”

I bite into the sandwich. The bread is rather soft but tasty, and the taste of the meats and cheeses mix with the unique sauce that reminds me of an eastern sauce. I swallow the bite before answering her. “Villgar was always sick when we were at the Academy. He could barely keep up with the classes, and his scores were always among the lowest. Even for a beta male, he was weaker than most female students. Most of us thought that he would be expelled from the Academy.”

“What happened? How did he become a Templar?” She leans forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. “If he was so weak, then I don’t see how he was allowed to be chosen…”

I sigh. “I didn’t think that he could have been chosen, to be honest. He was so weak, so behind the rest of the class, that he wasn’t even at the presentation when we first saw Jaskibar. He had been sick, and so, he was in quarantine.” I feel a smile growing on my face. “I was happy to hear that our compatibility was higher than normal. Everyone, including me, thought that he would chose me. It was nearly a given.” Altemp’s eyes widen, and her mouth opens slightly. “Then I heard that Jaskibar chose Villgar over me.”

She reaches to hold my hand. “It’s a good thing then that Villgar was chosen. I can’t imagine anyone else being my Templar.”

I give her a faint smile before returning my attention to the sandwich in front of me. I eat the rest of it in silence. Altemp takes the hint and eats her own sandwich and finishes her drink. 

I hear a deep bell tolling. The sound shocks me, and I turn towards the sound’s source. “What is that?”

“Is that the first time you’ve heard it?” the waitress asks. She chuckles. “It does take a while to get used to it. That’s the Peshti Clocktower bell. It really only rings every once in a while, so sometimes it catches you by surprise. With the start of the Festival of Flames being today, it’ll probably start ringing more often.”

Altemp’s phone gives off a couple of chimes, vibrating on the tabletop. She grabs it and pulls it close. The alarm ends shortly after that. “It’s noon,” she says. 

I push away from the table, but I don’t get up yet. “What do you have planned now?”

Altemp shrugs. “Not particularly. I figured we could walk around, see what we could find in town?”

“Are you here for the Festival of Flames?”

Altemp nods, smiling. “I was asked to attend to the rituals for the festival.”

The waitress’s eyes widen. “Oh. I suppose that does make sense. Jask and Villgar withdrew from community events late last year, so the Beites and Hailes would need to get a new Prophet to take care of the festival.”

“Jaskibar said that he was chased away by the townspeople,” I say.

She leans forward, resting her elbows on the countertop. “Well, that is true, but Jask and Villgar just… stopped coming to things. Lord, they would barely even make contact with the outside world. They would get their groceries delivered when they needed them, and the only person that would visit them was that doctor.”

Altemp seems to take interest in the woman’s words. “Oh, when did that start?”

The waitress taps her chin with one finger. She stares at the ceiling for a moment, thinking. “Probably about a year ago? Jask was never really interested in the town, so no one really noticed when he just stopped showing up to things. I heard that there was something happening with Villgar, but I chalked that up to rumors.”

Altemp tries to get a bit more information from her, but the conversation turns away from Jaskibar and Villgar’s strange disappearance from the social life of Peshti to other topics. I barely listen, allowing myself to doze in my seat.

I must have fallen asleep because I wake to Altemp shaking my shoulder. “It’s almost four. We’ll have to get going if we want to get to the parade,” she says softly.

I get to my feet. I take a moment to stretch, reaching high above my head and feeling the muscles in my back loosen. My mind, still hazy with sleep, struggles to orient itself. I reach out to touch the stream of magic coming from Altemp. It helps clears away the fog and allows me to feel even a little more awake. 

Altemp smiles up at me. “Ready?” she asks. 

I nod. “Let’s get going then.” We thank the café waitress and head out into the late afternoon heat. I feel the sun’s heat on my cheek, burning across my skin. The air is still, undisturbed by even the slightest of breezes, and that allows the heat to grow even more oppressive. I look up, holding my hand up to shade my eyes, and see that the sky has only a single, anemic cloud stretched across the entire length of the sky. 

The bell at the clocktower tolls again.


	4. Festival

> This year marks the first Festival of Flames. It is a time to honor our lost loved ones and lay to rest the sins of the past year. May we never have to face such a trial ever again, and may Peshti prosper as it once did.
> 
> \- Jinavandi Reines, 1593
>
>>  
>> 
>> We make it to the middle of the parade route just as the first few floats pass. Altemp stares at them eagerly, her silver eyes wide with wonder. She laughs as a group of tiny cars, driven by older men in bright red outfits, drive in twisting circles along the road, and she happily accepts a piece of candy from a child marching along. 
>> 
>> I spot a line of cars approaching us. I see Feniawle and Seppawle sitting in the back of the first car. They are wearing business suits, and they wave at the people lining the street. Feniawle’s eyes widen as the car passes us, but I don’t see any sign of recognition in Seppawle. Their car is adorned with a banner reading “Family of Mayor Secordian Beites.” 
>> 
>> Behind the Beites family is another short caravan of black cars. The first car has a banner reading “Hailes Family Law,” and most of the people inside wear uniforms of various law enforcement agencies. Even many of the women wear police uniforms. I don’t recognize anyone in the vehicles. 
>> 
>> The last group of note is a single car carrying the members of the Reines family. I recognize Chani in the back seat, but I don’t recognize the man, a relative of some sort, sitting next to him. The strange man has the dark hair of Jaskibar but the pale skin of Chani. His face is smooth and motionless, as if he had been chiseled from a single block of marble. The man does not bother to wave to the crowd; he does not seem interested in the parade at all. Chani notices us, but before he can move, the man next to him whispers something, and he settles down. I watch him carefully as the car passes.
>> 
>> We wait until the end of the parade before we move to follow it. Altemp chatters about the various floats used in the parade, and I make my own comments. 
>> 
>> We reach the end of the parade route. A parking lot branches off the road, and all of the participants are jostling into the parking lot. The parking lot lies at the mainland side of a bridge leading to an island in the river. More of the people that watched the parade are making their way across the bridge to the island beyond. 
>> 
>> Altemp starts to make her way towards the bridge. I glance back towards the parking lot, trying to glimpse Feniawle or Seppawle through the masses of cars and floats, but I can’t see them, so I turn to follow Altemp across the bridge. 
>> 
>> The bridge is made of new wood. The red-painted boards creak under the weight of the people crossing over to the island, but the bridge gives no other signs of weakness. It is not large enough to allow motorized vehicles, and it has rather beautiful details carved into the wood. The setting sun casts long shadows from the railings over the surface of the bridge. Short lanterns hang into openings in the railing. A pair of police officers, wearing the uniforms of the Peshti Police Department, stand near the center of the bridge, watching the crowds with rather intense looks. 
>> 
>> We reach the far side of the bridge and step onto the island. A tingle races across my skin. I reach out with my magical senses, noticing a thin trail of magic moving through the island, but I can’t find any source of the magic. It’s not particularly strong or dark, so I decide that ignoring it wouldn’t hurt. I turn my attention away from it.
>> 
>> I catch a whiff of something cooking on a barbeque. I spot a booth, nearly four times the size of its neighbors, with a bright yellow and black covering and a large barbeque dominating the space inside. I can see long rows of marinated chicken and corn on the cob still in the husk cooking on the massive barbeque. I feel my mouth begin to water at the smell and sight. 
>> 
>> The long line at the booth turns me away. Altemp is still nearby, and I rush to follow her. She is shopping at a smaller booth, her attention focused on the items on display. She looks up as I approach, but she quickly looks back down. I follow her line of vision to the table in front of us.
>> 
>> The table is covered with a cheap tablecloth and shallow wooden boxes. The boxes are filled with various kinds of jewelry. I spot some that are made of thin silver threads twisted around beautifully clear blue gems. The vendor praises their craftsmanship and mentions that the gems came from a nearby mine. She offers one to Altemp at a steeply discounted price. Altemp buys it and puts it on. The gem glitters in the light of the setting sun. She thanks the vendor before we continue to the next booth. 
>> 
>> We pass another police officer. The officer does not seem interested in our presence, his head turning left and right to scan the crowds. I turn to watch them disappear into the crowd.
>> 
>> “There you are,” I hear Feniawle say. We come to a stop and look in her direction. Feniawle walks towards us, followed by another young woman who stands a whole head shorter than Feniawle. The other woman wears a long black dress with a bright white cravat around her neck. Her dark tan hair is cut in sharp, flat angles and hangs loose down to just above her hips. She has dark green eyes. “I thought that I saw you at the parade.”
>> 
>> “Feni, is this the Prophet that you told me about?” the other woman asks. 
>> 
>> Altemp steps forward, thrusting her hand out. “My name is Altempflora Savores. The first character is ‘flower’, and the second character is ‘breeze.’ This is my Templar, Runegar.”
>> 
>> The woman looks at me. “You look too much like Villgar. A sister then?” She taps one finger on her chin. “Hm… Well, I do hope that you help this year’s festival go off without a hitch. Break this streak of bad luck we’ve been having. The name’s Wilicht Hailes by the way. Spelled just the way you’d think.”
>> 
>> Feniawle frowns. “Now, now. Don’t jinx this,” she chides.
>> 
>> Wilicht cackles. “It’ll be fine.” She shifts her weight onto one foot and crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, it is interesting to have another Prophet overseeing the festival this year.”
>> 
>> I sense an intense stare on me, and I turn to see Feniawle staring at me. She does not even blink, her eyes intent on me. The stare feels hot on my skin, sinking beneath my skin to burrow through my flesh. It causes my skin to crawl, and I look away from her. I stare down at the ground until Feniawle’s attention is drawn away by the conversation between Altemp and Wilicht. 
>> 
>> “What do you mean by bad luck?” Altemp asks, sounding more interested than concerned. 
>> 
>> I turn my attention back to the conversation. Wilicht glances at Feniawle before shrugging. “It’s nothing. Really.” She waves her hands in front of her. “Just a bunch of superstitious folks talking. Rumors of rumors. That’s it.”
>> 
>> Feniawle scowls and makes a show of checking her phone. “Let’s get going. We’ve got more people to meet.” She starts to walk away from us.
>> 
>> Wilicht’s eyes widen, and she smiles. “Oh, I didn’t realize that it was so late already.” She turns to us. “Hopefully we see each other again before the rituals,” she says. She follows Feniawle into the crowds. 
>> 
>> I watch the pair disappear into the crowd before Altemp and I begin to walk to the eastern end of the island. The booths change from craftsmen to small stalls serving a variety of food. This section of the festival grounds is less populated than the rest of the island, and many of the stalls have no customers. I can practically taste the food just from the strong smells in the air, but I can’t identify many of the smells.  
>  Altemp’s attention is drawn to many of the stalls. I follow her from stall to stall, but she is only looking at the variety of offerings. 
>> 
>> She comes to a stop. “Runegar, look,” she whispers.
>> 
>> I peer into the crowd, trying to see through the growing darkness. I spot Chani walking towards us, following slowly behind the strange man from the car. I can see him talking to his relative, but the man says nothing in return. 
>> 
>> They get close. The man finally seems to notice our presence. He moves to stand in front of us. “Lady Altempflora,” he says, his voice smooth and cold. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He reaches to take Altemp’s hand and kisses her knuckles. I see a shiver run through her at the touch. “I am Rovibar Reines. This is my son Chanibar.”
>> 
>> He releases her hand, and she allows it to drop to her side. “Well met, Mr. Reines. I hope that this weekend will go smoothly.”
>> 
>> His face does not move, and his eyes remain lifeless. “Perhaps. It is a shame that my son has decided to abandon his duties as the Prophet of Peshti, but it is good to see that a beautiful Prophet has come to replace him.”
>> 
>> Altemp looks uncomfortable. I take a step forward, but Chani interrupts my attempt to divert the conversation. “It’s all the fault of that whore that he’s ignoring the town.”
>> 
>> I feel a flush grow across my face, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Altemp gets a confused look on her own pale face.
>> 
>> Rovibar’s hand flashes out. Chani’s head snaps to the side before I realize what is happening. A gasp escapes his mouth, and he reaches up to cradle his assaulted cheek. Rovibar remains unfazed by the attack, his eyes focused on Altemp. “Ignore my wayward son’s words. He does not understand what he’s saying,” he says. 
>> 
>> Chani retreats a few steps. He glances back at his father before disappearing into the thin crowds. His father does not look after him. 
>> 
>> “I do hope that you decide to settle here,” Rovibar says. “Peshti needs a new Prophet to take control of the temple. My son is strong, but his attention is focused too much on that boy. He has abandoned his duties, and so Lady Cliaphora has abandoned the town.” 
>> 
>> I sense something in the man. He is far too interested in Altemp, and something about that interest sets off my instincts. I may not be an alpha (no women are), but I still feel protective of Altemp, and something about Rovibar Reines tells me to get her away.
>> 
>> I step between Rovibar and Altemp. “I’m afraid we must be going, Mr. Reines,” I say, trying to keep my voice level and calm. “We have yet to eat dinner, and we need to get food before the stalls close.”
>> 
>> His mouth twitches for a second into a frown, but I catch the flicker. “Very well. I will not stop you then.” He gives us a quick bow. “Do think about settling here,” he says. “I believe that your presence will help the town become prosperous again.”
>> 
>> He walks away, moving in a different direction of his son. I release a breath that I didn’t realize that I was holding, and I see Altemp relax her shoulders. “Thank you,” she says, looking at me. “I was taken aback by his… persistence…”
>> 
>> We begin to walk away, heading towards the nearest food stall. “It’s fine. What do you want to get?”
>> 
>> We end up separating, each choosing a different stall to get food from. I meander back to the large tent with its barbequed corn and chicken. I find myself standing in a line that has somehow gotten even longer since we first arrived. 
>> 
>> “Oh my,” I hear Feniawle say. I look over my shoulder at her. She gives me an easy smile. “Chance has brought us back together. And so soon.”
>> 
>> I turn to face her. “You wanted to meet me?”
>> 
>> “Yes. It’s because I wanted to talk to you.”
>> 
>> “Eh? Don’t you mean Altemp?”
>> 
>> She laughs, the sound soft and barely audible over the humdrum of the crowds around us. I hear the fire of the barbeque crackle. The sound seems far too loud. “Oh? Of course I would love to talk with Altemp. She is a Prophet, and I would love to learn what truths she sees. But… I also wanted to talk together with you, Runegar Tomes. You are a rather interesting person.”
>> 
>> I feel the muscles of my mouth twitch. “…I see. What did you want to talk about? I’m no Prophet, and I cannot tell you about Altemp’s abilities, so I don’t know how I can be interesting.”
>> 
>> She crosses her arms across her stomach. “I… I think that you and I are quite alike.”
>> 
>> My eyes widen, and I feel myself beginning to smile, though I don’t feel happy. “What do you mean? No matter how I look at it, I don’t see the resemblance.”
>> 
>> Her smile turns into a sneer. “That’s just what you show to others. It’s not your true nature.” 
>> 
>> I feel my confusion growing. A chill touch creeps around my heart. 
>> 
>> “You and I… We both have people that we can’t live without.”
>> 
>> “What?”
>> 
>> “You know what I mean. You know that you, yourself, are an empty existence without your Prophet. You don’t have any reason of your own for existing, and without Altempflora, you are rather meaningless. Powerless.”
>> 
>> “What are you talking about?” I say, my voice louder than I intended. I glance at the people around us, but they don’t seem to be interested in our conversation. 
>> 
>> My heart is pounding in my chest. I can hear my heart beating in my ears.
>> 
>> “It’s only been a short amount of time, but… When I look at you, I feel annoyed.” She stops to talk a breath. “You… You are nothing like your brother. Vill has gained his own purpose outside of his role as Jask’s Templar, and yet… you still cling to your Prophet like a small child whose toy can be taken away at any time.”
>> 
>> “Shut up.”
>> 
>> Feniawle giggles. “Don’t worry. It’s just a joke.” She turns away from me. “I think that you and I could become good friends, especially if your beloved Prophet decides to settle her. The Beites protect the Prophet of Peshti just as much as their Templar, and the Prophet guides my family. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. It would be good to allow our relationship to grow.”
>> 
>> _I feel a shiver run through me. This person…_
>> 
>> “Ah, Runegar?” I turn to face Altemp. I am surprised to see her with Wilicht. They are both carrying small clamshell containers. “There you are.”
>> 
>> Feniawle walks to her friend, a smile on her face. Nothing of her inner nature shows through. “Ufufu… I was just having an idle chat with Runegar.”
>> 
>> She gets close to Altemp. Altemp leans back to put some space between them. “Is that so?”
>> 
>> Feniawle glances back at me. “Right? Runegar?”
>> 
>> I hesitate. I crush the rush of anger at the woman, shoving it deep into my chest. 
>> 
>> Altemp, noticing my hesitation, starts to walk towards me. “Rune?”
>> 
>> I sigh before I put on a smile. “Yeah. Just… some small talk.”
>> 
>> Feniawle smiles at me, but I feel myself beginning to frown. She puts one arm around Wilicht’s shoulders and leads her away from us.
>> 
>> I get my food, and we sit down at a nearby table. The wood is old. I can feel the splintering wood on the bench through my clothes, and I narrowly avoid scraping my hand over a large splinter on the tabletop. The metal supporting the benches squeaks under our weights as we sit down. 
>> 
>> “What do you think we should do?” Altemp says.
>> 
>> I look at her, holding a long corn cob. I carefully pull away the dried, blackened husk to reveal the bright yellow kernels inside. “What do you mean?”
>> 
>> “It would be nice to settle, and Peshti is pleasant, but I don’t know if I want to remain so close to that man.”
>> 
>> “Rovibar Reines?”
>> 
>> She nods. “He doesn’t not seem the kind of person to be concerned about anyone. To him, people are just cogs, things to be used and turned to do what he wants. I don’t know what he hopes to gain from us settling here, but I don’t know if I want to find out.”
>> 
>> I am distracted from Altemp by a young man running through the crowds, shouting Wilicht’s name. His hair appears pitch black in the dim light, but flashes of light reveal that it is a grayish color. He is tall and slender, his limbs too long for his frame. His face is similarly long, with a narrow chin and sharp eyes. He wears an outfit of black shorts and a white t-shirt. He disappears back into the crowds.
>> 
>> Altemp notices. “What’s wrong?”
>> 
>> “Someone looking for Wilicht.” I take a bite of chicken. “You met up with her?”
>> 
>> Altemp nods. A smile grows across her face. “That’s right. She was telling me stories about Peshti, like how the town once had a powerful witch who protected them during the Great Fire in 1583. After she died, the townspeople found a black book that she wrote a bunch of prophecies in.”
>> 
>> I feel the cold around my chest again. 
>> 
>> “The black book was rumored to be cursed though, and it was hidden away. She said that those who receive black letters or find the black book are cursed to do the witch’s bidding or face death as a punishment.”  
>  “Did she say what happens if you do what the witch wants?”
>> 
>> Altemp laughs. “No. She said that it’s just a story that the old folks passed down to keep children from causing trouble. The dead can’t cause trouble for the living. You know that.”


	5. The abandoned shadow cast on the shrine

> Shrines provide places of worship away from the temples of the Prophets. They tend to be simple things, but many pilgrims consider them to be important stops on their pilgrimages. It is rare to find shrines far from a temple.
> 
> \- _Prophets of Usono_ , published 1653

I wake to my phone buzzing on the table next to the bed. I reach into the darkness, groping blinding for my phone. I feel my fingers brush against the plastic case. I grab it and pull it close. I realize that the notification is for a text message rather than a call.

I open the message, my brain still half-asleep. It’s from an unknown number, and that causes a wave of concern to run through me. The first line causes me to relax once I realize that the message is from Villgar.  
An apology. He begs forgiveness for not being able to meet us last night. He mentions that something came up before he could leave, and the event, otherwise unexplained, prevented him from leaving the temple. 

I roll away from Altemp, who is still sleeping on the other bed. I tap out a message and send it to him. 

I check the time. Only 5:34 in the morning. The sun has not yet risen, and the room remains in complete darkness. I roll out of the bed, my skin breaking out in gooseflesh at the cool air, and move to the living room. 

I flick on the light above the small sink. The light is enough to see by but not enough to disturb Altemp. I sit down on the couch. I allow my eyes to close as I relax into the cushions.

I wake up again, light beginning to filter underneath the curtains on the window next to me. I feel a little stiff, but otherwise, I feel a lot more rested than before. I hear the shower going, indicating that Altemp is awake and already preparing for the day. 

I get to my feet. I reach high above my head and stretch my back. I feel the muscles relaxing and the tension fading away. I have a bit of a headache remaining, but it’s not enough to cause me any trouble today.

Once we are ready for the day, Altemp and I head out. As we walk to the road, I notice a pair of police officers walking down the street. They follow a police canine, but they don’t walk with a sense of urgency. Altemp notices them as well. “What’s going on?”

The officers turn off the sidewalk, heading away from the river. “I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe it has something to do with the festival?”

We walk across the bridge to the downtown area of town. Another police car passes us as we make our way across the bridge, but we don’t see any more officers on foot. 

My attention is drawn to a piece of paper taped to one of the shop windows. I get close to the window, peering at the page. I see a picture of Wilicht and the young man from last night on the page directly underneath the words. “What the…” The young man is named Verdilavi Graves, aged 23. The page notes that they are probably travelling together, though that might not be fact. I tear the page down and carry it to Altemp. “Hey, look at this.”

She takes the page. She looks over the information on the page. “Isn’t this… Didn’t we see her just last night?” I nod, and her mouth twists into a frown. “This is impossible. Her luck was among the best. There is no way anything bad could have happened to her.”

She hands me the page. I carefully fold the paper and put it into my coat pocket. “What do you think happened?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not sure. Someone with such good luck… Something must have changed… Something drastic is the only way to cause her luck to become so poor…”

I frown. “So basically their disappearances are not natural…”

She gives a faint nod. 

I sigh. “This whole weekend is getting worse by the minute,” I say, reaching up to scratch the back of my head. 

We continue walking down the street. I catch sight of people glancing at us as they drive past, and the looks of distrust on their faces cause the hair on my arms and neck to rise. We reach the café, but my appetite has disappeared. 

I sit at one of the tables, watching as Altemp orders a small meal for her breakfast. I load up a news app on my phone and scroll through it for any news about the disappearances. There is very little news coming from the area, even though I am looking through the local newspaper’s articles. This place is too quiet, I think. 

Altemp sits in front of me, and the waitress brings her plate to the table shortly after that. Altemp eats in silence; she must be thinking about the disappearances.

I look up at the sound of the bell over the door ringing. An older man, with thinning grey hair and thick jowls, steps into the small café. He is of average height and wears a county sheriff’s uniform, though he is unarmed. He looks old enough to be a grandfather, but he holds himself like a soldier. Nothing about him is kind.

He scans the room, his eyes falling on us. He strides across the room. One step falls more heavily than the other. The sound echoes slightly in the silence of the café. Even the soft patter of brewing coffee seems inaudible above the sound of those steps. The man comes to a stop at our table.

“You must be the Prophet that the Beites called in for the festival,” he says. He looks Altemp over, the glance somehow sexual despite the lack of lewdness in the man’s eyes. Altemp shrinks away from him. The man shrugs. “The name’s Devosimar Kites. I’m with the Fros County Sheriff’s Office investigating the disappearances of Wilicht Hailes and Verdilavi Graves.” His voice is rough from years of smoking. His teeth are stained, and his breath reeks of rot.

Altemp frowns. “I don’t know how I can help you, Officer Kites.”

The man drags over a chair and sits in the backwards chair. “I heard that Prophets have incredible powers that could show what happened to someone. I was hoping that you would assist with the investigation.”

She leans back in her chair. “I don’t see how I could help,” she says softly. “All I can see is a person’s luck. That cannot help the investigation.”

Kites’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? Then how is my luck then?”

I feel my back straighten. It is incredibly rude to ask such a question of a Prophet unbidden. Prophets cannot lie with regards to their gifts; she is compelled to give the honest answer.

Altemp’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times before she manages to regain her wits. “It is quite poor,” she says, with as little emotion as possible. “You have not had very good luck for a very long time, but that is the result of your own doing, that much is obvious.”

Kites does not react to Altemp’s words. “Well, looks like your power is legit. You’re right. It wouldn’t be useful to know a person’s luck.” He stays seated though, watching us carefully. “But luck is not everything in the world. People can work outside of the constraints of luck and fate.”

“Are you proposing that the disappearances were caused by people?” I ask. 

He shrugs. “Of course, they were caused by people. The goddesses do not bother with humans. Every action is the result of human action. It is only the person involved that makes it good or evil.” He sighs. “But this town is filled with suspects. Chief among them are the Reines family.”

“What about them?” Altemp says. “They may be a bit… extreme, but they don’t seem to be the kind of people to harm others.”

He laughs. “That’s just what you see on the outside. Rovibar Reines has done a good job making that appearance work, but once you look deeper, you start to see the real side of that damn family.” He looks down at the table. “The Reines are connected with some of the… less legal sides of society. There’s no way to restore a family on the verge of destruction to relative prosperity in a single generation with only legal methods. Even the Prophet of Peshti is tied to this family.”

I feel myself frowning. “Prophets give up their familial connections when they are chosen. They are neutral parties that serve the people.”

“Maybe it’s like that in the big cities, but here, family ties mean everything.” He looks at me. “I heard that you went to the temple. Not a lot of people there, were there?” I am forced to shake my head in agreement. “Who do you think supports the temple? It’s certainly not the association or any pilgrims. Jaskibar Reines receives a lot of money from his father. Who knows what the price is for that money?”

“That’s a bold accusation,” Altemp says. Her voice is rather flat, emotionless. I realize that she is starting to get frustrated with the county sheriff officer. 

He shrugs again. “Once you’ve dealt with this town for long enough, you learn a lot of things about the great families.”

His phone rings. He doesn’t bother to turn away as he answers it. “Kites,” he says. He listens carefully, the voice coming from his phone just quiet enough to be mumbles that I can’t understand. “Alright. I’ll head out.”

He gets to his feet. He shoves the chair back underneath its table. “I hope that we’ll be able to meet again,” he says. He strides from the café. The bell above the door gives a pair of chimes as the door swings open and then closed again. 

Altemp releases her breath. “That man… He is dangerous.”

I glance at her. “That’s obvious.” She throws a frown at me, but the look quickly disappears. “Was his luck that bad?”

She shakes her head. “No, but I could tell that he is not a good person. His luck is scarred by his own actions. He will never have good luck. Only bad and worse.” She sighs and gets to her feet. Her meal is only half-eaten. She gets a small to-go container from the waitress and packs the last of the meal away. “Let’s get going.”

I check the time. It is a bit before noon. We have a few hours before the first of the rituals that Altemp must oversee. 

We head back towards the hotel, though we are only stopping there to drop off the leftover food. Altemp walks in silence a couple of steps in front of me. Her shoulders slump slightly, and she leans forward in exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

Altemp glances back at me. Her face relaxes, allowing the young 16-year-old girl to appear for just a second. Her silver eyes betray her fear and worry. “Yes. It’s just…”

She comes to a stop, and I catch up to her. I put one arm over her narrow shoulders and pull her close. “Is it about Wilicht?” She nods weakly. “How about I look into their disappearances myself?”

“I don’t want you to go near Officer Kites,” she says.

I give a bark of laughter. “I don’t want to deal with that man either. I’ll just do my own investigation into the circumstances of their disappearances. Make sure that it’s nothing to worry about.” 

She smiles at me. She pulls away from me. “Thanks.”

We continue to the bridge leading to the festival grounds. There are a few cars in the parking lot now, and once we get across the bridge, I see that the cars belong to workers preparing for the start of the festival in a few hours. 

We walk in the opposite direction of the stalls, heading towards the stairs leading up to the higher portion of the island. The stairs are lined by short streetlamps, though the lights are off this early in the day. The metal lampposts are barely higher than four feet tall, and even Altemp stands higher than the lampposts. The metal is an iridescent black color that glistens in the sunlight. 

Tall trees tower over the stairs, though the drought has struck them just as hard as the trees on the mainland. Leaves litter the stairs, crunching under our feet as we climb the stairs. The trees are unique though, having pale white bark and long, narrow trunks that seem too skinny to support the tree’s canopy.

We reach the top of the staircase. The trees stop at the top of the staircase, forming a living crown for the hill, and the lampposts continue on, following the path to a small shrine at the center of the hill. I have never seen such a small shrine that is a permanent structure; some shrines may be smaller than this one, but they are temporary things that are torn down shortly after their construction. 

The shrine is roughly four feet by four feet in size. It rises six feet into the air, with freshly red-painted stone pillars at the four corners of the shrine. The roof is slanted at a proper 30-degree angle. There are no walls, showing the interior altar of the shrine. The magic on the island is strongest here. It centers on the shrine and seeps out from there. 

“It’s so quiet here,” Altemp says. She takes a step towards the shrine. She glances back to the stairs, but we are alone on the hill. The trees stifle the sound coming from the festival grounds below, and even the sound of the breeze is deadened. The eerie silence is unnerving. 

We are eventually joined by one of the members of the Beites family, though it is neither Feniawle nor Seppawle. I step away to allow Altemp and the Beites family member to talk alone. I have no interest in the practices of the rituals that Altemp will be supervising, so I allow them to have a measure of privacy.

Time seems to pass quickly, and soon the sun is sitting low in the sky. The shadows reach up the gentle curve of the hill towards the shrine. People begin to climb the stairs. Each person is holding a small doll in their hands. The dolls look handmade, and some are massive things, nearly two feet long, while others are only a few inches tall.

The people are strangely quiet. Their steps are muffled, and only soft whispers float through the still air.  
It’s like a funeral procession, I think. 

The people place their dolls in a pile at the base of the small shrine. The pile grows more and more as more people arrive to add their dolls to the pile. As the people move away from the shrine, I can see that they are smiling. 

I spot a man standing near the stairs. He is tall and solidly built with shoulder-length black hair. His temples are shaved, and a pair of beaded braids hang from just behind his left ear. He wears a black, vaguely militaristic uniform that I recognize as the uniform of the Templars of the Order of the Crystal. A pair of golden, braided aiguillette cords hang between the man’s left shoulder and the opposite breast. 

I start to make my way towards the man. He watches Altemp near the shrine, and I move unnoticed by him. I weave between the people of the massive crowd, the people around me seeming to move out of my way on their own. 

A pair of bells, deep and echoing in the growing darkness, ring out. I stop, my attention drawn towards the shrine. I see Altemp standing near the shrine. She holds a long staff that has two bells hanging from the top of the staff. Brilliant red ribbons connect the bells to the staff. She moves through the crowd, the bells chiming with each gentle wave of the staff.

I continue towards the man again. He is still standing near the stairs, leaning against a thick pillar. He has his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted slightly to one side. 

I feel someone grab onto my wrist. The hand is bitterly cold, and I feel it seep deep beneath my skin. 

I wrench my wrist free as I turn to face the person. “Runegar, there you are,” Villgar says. 

“Villgar, what are you doing here?”

He takes a step back. He holds his hands behind his back. He smiles at me. “I knew that there was a ritual that needed to be overseen by a Prophet, so I figured you would be nearby.” He glances at Altemp. “I was sorry that I couldn’t meet up with you last night, so I decided to come here tonight.”

I rub at my wrist. The cold is fading, but I can still feel it under my skin. “Where’s Jaskibar?”

He shrugs. “Jask doesn’t like these kinds of things, so he stayed back at the temple.” He looks at the crowd around us. “What were you doing? You seemed to be in a rush for some reason.”

I look over his shoulder towards the strange Templar, but the man has disappeared. I bite down a growl and return my attention to Villgar. He is smaller than me, I realize, with somewhat feminine features about his face and hips, but he has a gentle smell like a beta male. His clothes, a casual set of calf-high capris and a loose t-shirt, are better fitting than those I saw him in a couple of days ago.

“I… I was going to check something.”

He tilts his head. I wonder what’s going on in his head. “Well, it is good to see you again. You’ll be here for a while longer, right?”

“Through the weekend. Then we’ll see where we go from here.”

His mouth twists slightly. “Oh.” He rubs his hands together, not saying anything. “Do you remember our promise?”

I frown. _What promise?_ I spot the stranger over Villgar's shoulder. “I’ll see you later,” I say. I step around him and move into the crowd before he can respond. I don’t bother to look back at him.


End file.
